Steel and Keys
by Allureofproductivity
Summary: Based on a missed opportunity and a "what-if" scenario from 1x12 "pawn." Mike hit some traffic, and isn't happy. Charlie's pretty upset about it too, or, you know, she would be it she could focus on anything but the knife wielding maniac who has her tied to a freaking bed. Rated M for language and relatively gory bits.


**hey y'all! I have decided to start a new story based off the sole fact that they could have really milked Briggs' and Charlie's capture and torture and decided "eh, better not." This, to me, left out some serious character bonding and also some development and the chance to carry the "Jangles" arc a little longer, so I did it for them! Hope you enjoy!**

A steel blade sliced through soft flesh, blood welling up like a waterfall and sliding down paling skin like a snake, trailing lazily across the expanse of black fabric and seeping into snowy carpet. She screamed as loudly as she could.  
Which, of course, only earned Charlie a meaty fist to the face. The sound of cracking bone shot through the air and ow holy shit she was pretty sure he had broken her cheekbone.  
"If you scream again, it will be your arm next."  
Ok, she got the message. No screaming. Another searing pain fired through her again, this time in her stomach. She didn't know he coated his knives with acid. She pulled weakly against the rope tying her to the bed, head thrown back in agony. She must have bitten her lip off by this point.  
The strangled whimper that slipped up her throat next was completely unplanned. The bastard heard it though, and she wanted nothing more than to shoot that sadistic smile right off his face. A couple of times.  
"Stop, man. You've made your point. Let her go."  
Damn Briggs and his hero complex. He was gonna get himself killed. She fully expected him to not die. Somebody had to help her hide the asshole currently carving her up like a turkey's body when she escaped and kicked his ass.  
"That will not be happening, Paul."  
Oh hell no. Was that a fucking scalpel? What did he plan to do with that?  
The blade was hovering dangerously close to her jugular. Her vision started to grey out in panic. Or maybe it was blood loss. Either way, it was definitely not helping her.  
And with that thought, a surgical blade was jabbed into the space behind her collarbone.  
Well shit. She didn't mean to scream, but apparently she did anyway.  
Rafael was furious now, yelling, spit flying in every direction as he grabbed her arm roughly, retying the other one back to the bedpost before she had time to flip him the bird. Nononono she needed that, asshat.  
Her wrist, of course,snapped like a twig because Rafael's brutish yanking and she bucked against the ropes, arm lying useless and on fire. Briggs had his forehead pressed against the side of her temple, trying to offer at least a little comfort, but fuck she just wanted to be home right now.  
Oh fabulous. She was crying, great heaving gasps shuddering through her, tears mixing with blood and sweat and running in a dark sludge down her cheeks. Rafael just grinned, the bastard, and picked up another knife.  
Brakes squealed. Hallelujah. Rafael's head whipped around so fast she thought it would fly across the room. Damn. It didn't. Instead, he yanked on the radio dial, turning it up so loud it was making her head pound.  
He was untying her! Finally finally finally.  
Evil flickered through his dark pupils, both her wrists in his grasp, her broken arm throbbing angrily, and she grimaced through the still flowing tears as he increased the pressure.  
Briggs was yelling something as metal flickered and waved and then hell erupted against the tender skin inside one wrist. Blood pooled almost immediately in her palm and she choked on a screech and curled in on herself just to arch back again as the knife dragged the length of her spine cruelly and slowly.  
The door slammed. The room spun and whirled around her like a surfboard in a hurricane.  
"Charlie. Charlie!"  
Wha? Oh right, Briggs.  
"Babe, I need you to try to get over to me, alright?"  
What else could she do but drag herself weakly across the bloodstained rug, her slow progress filled with muffled moans and curses. Damn, but it hurt.  
And then she was half sitting, half lying next to Briggs and he was trying to get her to focus.  
"Let me see your collarbone."  
She quirked an eyebrow sluggishly. Why the hell-oh right, there was a scalpel embedded in it. She leaned too far and ended up sprawled across Paul's legs.  
"Charlie, listen carefully." There was water in her ears. "Pull out the knife, okay?" Why? That was like, the least best thing to do. Right? "Just do it. Then try to cut through the ropes tying me to the bed, alright? You can do it, sweetheart."  
Ok. Ow ow owowowow. It was out, silver toned blade glistening with her blood. She retched, suddenly nauseated and dizzy. Her own blood danced and swirled across her eyelids as she squeezed them shut and swallowed convulsively. She had to cut the ropes.  
That was... Easier said than done. She sawed weakly, strands popping, Briggs' voice running rivers in her mind, until a hand closed around her wrist, and she whimpered and jerked away in terror.  
"Mikey?"  
Sure enough, one of Mike's still a bit soft hands was around her own, holding it steady as she broke the last strand of rope tying Paul to the bed. She slumped sideways, dizzy and sick with the smell of blood and... gunpowder?  
Someone was cradling her on the floor now as another fuzzy someone pressed something soft against her gushing wrist.  
"I bleedin' alo' huh."  
"Yeah you sure are."  
Pain flared in her back and face and stomach and chest and arm all at once and she squirmed against a firm grip she was pretty sure belonged to Mikey.  
"Ouww 'urts M'ky."  
Rough hands, Briggs' hands, brushed across her cheek.  
"Briggs. We need to get her to a hospital."  
"We can't. Goddammit. I hate protocol some days."  
"What do you mean?"  
"We gotta wait for the Bureau to secure the perimeter before anybody comes in or out of this place."  
Pressure increased on her stomach and she whimpered in protest.  
"That's the dumbest shit I ever heard."  
"Tell me about it."  
Pressure against her sternum. Fuckfuckfuckowowow.  
"Hold still, sweetheart. Charlie, you need to hold still."  
She got the message. It was just so hard though.  
There were other voices yelling now, other people swarming around her safe little cocoon of trust and she pulled away from whoever was still holding her, trying desperately to run. She needed to get out of here before she died.  
Her legs were jello and she sank to the floor almost immediately, crying out in pain as she fell.  
Her head was against a sweaty chest, legs dangling from thick arms, body bouncing with every jerky step. She moaned and buried her head farther into familiarly scented fabric, pain flushing out all other thoughts.  
"Just stay with me."  
That was, sadly, easier said than done.

Don't worry, I have not forgotten about "Ain't no Damsel." I have just chosen to proceed in a more fluffy direction!

Stay shiny!

Alllure


End file.
